AGN -Chapter 400 Taking the Blame

“Burp.”

“Burp.”

“Burp.”

Three loud burps rang out in succession. Dong Shi struggled to swallow the last bite of the Sishi roll in his mouth, then looked down at the half roll still in his hand with difficulty. He turned to his older brother with a pleading look.

His eyes clearly said: Save me. Save me. Brother, please help me finish this half!

Dong Li also had half a Sishi roll left in his hand. He ignored his younger brother’s plea and just kept eating on his own. His eyes were dull, his expression numb—there was no appreciation for the delicacy at all, only the urgent need to finish what was in front of him.

Everyone in the back kitchen of Huang Ji was eating Sishi rolls. Each person was in a different state, but they all shared the same feeling.

They couldn’t eat any more.

Only one person was different.

That was Shi Dadan, sitting by the kitchen door on a dedicated small stool, with his own small table and his own designated seat.

As for why Shi Dadan could get treatment even the shareholder Gong Liang couldn’t—of course it was because of his ability.

His appetite.

Everything started from that morning when Zheng Da cried his heart out.

That day, Qin Huai realized the importance of technique, and also the difficulty of cloud-pattern rolling and the true value of the Sishi roll.

He finally understood why Zheng Da had been muttering to Gu Li the day before, saying their previous attempt was complete nonsense. Given the difficulty of Sishi rolls, if Gu Li had really been the one teaching cloud patterns, he would have led everyone straight into a ditch.

After all, Gu Li had limited ability. He was fine as an explainer, but not qualified as a teacher.

Zheng chef, on the other hand—once paired with him as an explainer—became a very competent instructor.

Realizing the difficulty of Sishi rolls, Qin Huai began intense practice. While practicing, he also recruited a partner—Gu Li.

Qin Huai explained his new understanding of cloud patterns to Gu Li in detail. Gu Li didn’t react much after hearing it, but from the next day onward he clearly reduced practice of other pastries and focused more energy on learning and making Sishi rolls.

Tan Weian and Zheng Sixuan weren’t as extreme. For them, Sishi rolls were not their only practice focus.

Zheng Sixuan wasn’t as interested in Sishi rolls as he was in double crab buns. Qin Huai guessed this was because double crab buns were a truly high-difficulty pastry in every aspect—balanced and challenging, very suitable for someone like Zheng Sixuan, a “hexagonal warrior.” In contrast, all the difficulty of Sishi rolls was concentrated in cloud-pattern finger techniques, too specialized. Since Zheng Sixuan wasn’t interested in cloud patterns and didn’t know them anyway, he naturally wasn’t very interested in Sishi rolls either.

As for Tan Weian, he was actually quite interested, but he was self-aware. He knew very well he simply couldn’t make it.

He even joked to himself that his grandfather was an expert in cloud patterns, and even he couldn’t just “pick it up casually,” so there was no way Tan Weian would manage it.

As for Zang Liang, after briefly observing the making of Sishi rolls, he fully immersed himself in hot-kitchen cooking and exchange, blending completely into the Huang Ji kitchen staff—so much so that outsiders would think he was one of them.

And as for our protagonist Qin Huai—

Of course, he entered full training mode for Sishi rolls. Every day at Huang Ji, the first thing he did was make a batch of Sishi rolls, then shake lotus root starch balls, then alternate between Sishi rolls and double crab buns. To avoid getting bored from repetition, he occasionally inserted random simple pastries he felt like making.

It sounded just like his previous pastry training at Huang Ji, didn’t it?

Just like when he practiced crab roe shumai and Sishi glutinous rice balls?

But it wasn’t the same.

Although both crab roe shumai and Sishi glutinous rice balls involved early-stage failures, those pastries were far more complex than Sishi rolls—simply put, they were far more time- and labor-intensive.

Crab roe shumai required fresh crab roe, and extracting it alone was troublesome enough that Qin Huai needed at least three assistants. Not to mention seasoning—it couldn’t be simplified or sped up.

Sishi glutinous rice balls were even worse: four different fillings, some pre-made, some freshly prepared. Just making fillings took a huge amount of time every day.

But Sishi rolls were essentially just decorative flower rolls.

And what are flower rolls known for?

Large quantity, filling, satisfying.

When practicing double crab buns before, Qin Huai deliberately controlled the output because they were premium items. He needed repeated small batches to refine the recipe.

But Sishi rolls were different. What Qin Huai needed to practice wasn’t dough fermentation or filling—it was finger technique.

Finger technique required massive repetition. In simple terms, he had to grind proficiency.

With Qin Huai’s current intermediate-level technique, he couldn’t possibly create proper cloud patterns. Even if he understood the method, he still couldn’t do it. He knew this very clearly.

And his finger technique really needed an upgrade.

When he first met Shi Dadan at Cao Guixiang’s house, his finger technique was only about 600 proficiency points away from advanced level. Later, while focusing on double crab buns, his progress stalled. He had never prioritized finger technique, so it had been stuck at the threshold without breaking through.

At this point, someone might wonder—if it’s just practice, why did Dong Shi, Dong Li, and the entire Huang Ji kitchen end up like this?

The answer was simple: flower rolls are made in large quantities.

Practicing Sishi rolls cannot be limited like crab buns—you have to make as many as possible.

The result was that every day, trays and trays of Sishi rolls were steamed and brought out in bulk. They were acceptable in taste but seriously flawed in appearance. And this was Huang Ji—home to many long-time customers who had been coming since its days as a state-run restaurant.

These customers had eaten Ji Shifu’s Sishi rolls, Zheng Da’s Sishi rolls. Not every one of them could identify Qin Huai’s flower rolls on sight like Gong Liang, but what if?

What if someone actually remembered clearly?

A customer might recognize that these Sishi rolls looked like Zheng Da’s early work—or even worse than that.

If news spread that “Little Qin chef’s Sishi rolls are not as good as Zheng Da when he first started,” how would Qin Huai maintain his reputation in the future?

Zheng Da felt this was something he had seen before. Even though he trusted Qin Huai’s mental resilience, he still felt there was no need for him to bear this kind of pressure.

Every pastry chef inevitably makes mistakes when learning new dishes, but those early failures are not supposed to be served in the restaurant.

Qin Huai had already built a reputation in Huang Ji—and not just there. The entire southern pastry world now knew his name, and many chefs had even secretly come to buy his pastries.

But now, the situation was special. He was producing Sishi rolls that were acceptable in taste but severely flawed in appearance.

If these were made by Tan Weian, customers would probably just praise him for improving.

But because they were made by Qin Huai, even if the taste was fine, the visual failure was still a failure. It would damage his reputation and inevitably lead to criticism.

Zheng Da felt Qin Huai didn’t need to go through that.

Whether as “Qin chef” or “Little Qin chef,” he should just continue being the prodigy who receives praise from everyone. That was what Zheng Da, back when he was still “Little Zheng chef,” had once enjoyed the most.

As for those criticisms and disappointments that once made Young Zheng chef hide at home and cry in secret, those could remain as something only his past self had to endure. There was no need for the current Little Qin chef—or Qin chef himself—to go through the same thing again.

For the sake of Qin chef’s pastry-making experience, Huang Shengli and Zheng Da discussed it and agreed that Sishi rolls were not suitable for public sale until Qin Huai could produce ones that were at least visually acceptable.

They could only be consumed internally.

However, while Sishi glutinous rice balls and crab roe shumai could still be “internally digested,” Sishi rolls were a bit too much to handle.

They were simply too filling—after all, they were flower rolls.

Since Qin Huai started practicing Sishi rolls, the employee meals at Huang Ji had completely changed. Chicken noodle soup, Yangzhou fried rice, plain rice, stir-fried noodles—all of it disappeared. The only staple was Sishi rolls. From breakfast to dinner, it was Sishi rolls. If employees were willing, they could even take them home for late-night snacks.

At first, everyone was quite happy. After all, Qin Huai’s Sishi rolls, although not visually appealing, were top-tier in taste. The “correct version” was undeniably delicious.

But after a week, people started struggling.

By the second week, things had reached the point described at the beginning—everyone found it hard to swallow even the tastiest Sishi rolls. No matter how good something is, you can’t eat it every day, every meal. Dong Shi now felt full just seeing them when he arrived at work.

Gong Liang had initially come to the back kitchen every day excitedly, waiting for hot Sishi rolls. But after a few days, he suddenly became busy with work and disappeared. When asked, he only said business matters were too complicated to explain, and he couldn’t come. What a pity he couldn’t eat Qin chef’s Sishi rolls.

Only Shi Dadan persisted, coming rain or shine to the kitchen entrance every day, sitting there helping everyone “share the burden.” No matter how much he ate, he never got tired of them—his love for staple food was practically written on his face.

It could be said that all the staff at Huang Ji, for the sake of Qin chef’s reputation, had not only nearly eaten themselves sick of Sishi rolls—they had also gotten their entire families sick of them.

Because of this, Zheng Da quietly helped Qin Huai take some of the blame. If anyone asked who made these flower rolls, the answer was Zheng Da.

As for why the normally lazy Zheng chef suddenly acted like he had taken the wrong medicine and started making so many oddly shaped flower rolls every day?

The answer was simple: Zheng chef had gone crazy.

So did all this effort from the Huang Ji staff and Zheng chef bring any reward?

Qin Huai thought—yes, it did.

Another batch of Sishi rolls came out of the steamer. Qin Huai cut each one open to inspect the cloud patterns and found they were still not good.

Looking at Gu Li’s batch next to him, he realized Gu Li’s rolls actually looked much better than his.

But everyone still preferred Qin Huai’s, because they tasted better. If they were going to eat Sishi rolls until they were sick of them anyway, they might as well eat the delicious ones.

The previous batch still hadn’t even been finished.

Tan Weian chewed on a Sishi roll and walked over to Qin Huai, counting how many had just come out. Frowning, he said:

“Qin Huai, if it really doesn’t work, why don’t we just sell some Sishi rolls? Or donate them somewhere—like orphanages or nursing homes. I’ll pay for it!”

“Or we can just say I made them.”

Without even looking up at the cloud patterns, Qin Huai replied, “Your skill level isn’t that good.”

Tan Weian: “……”

Sometimes he really felt like fighting these Qin chefs.

Seeing that Tan Weian didn’t respond, Qin Huai added:

“My finger technique is about to level up. And what you just said, Huang chef has actually considered before—but Huang Ji has no precedent for donations to orphanages or nursing homes, and none of the staff here come from that background either.”

“Whether it’s elderly people or children, food donations must be handled extremely carefully. Huang Ji is a well-known restaurant. If anything goes wrong, it would seriously damage its reputation. So after looking into it, Huang chef gave up on that idea.”

As he spoke, Qin Huai picked the best-looking Sishi roll from the batch, took a bite, then burped.

“Burp. I know everyone’s been having a hard time lately.”

“Zheng chef’s neighbor’s dog was hospitalized with gastroenteritis again last week.”

“I already discussed it with Huang chef. If needed, we’ll just call this version ‘Sishi flower rolls,’ sell them cheaply first. Once I can make properly shaped Sishi rolls, we’ll release an upgraded version at a higher price.”

“I also told Zheng chef many times that I really don’t care what people say about me, but he just doesn’t believe it.”

“Hang in there for two more days. I feel like at most two days, the Sishi flower rolls will be ready for sale.”

After Qin Huai said all this, Tan Weian only picked up one key point.

“That imaginary game system of yours… and the finger technique skill—it still levels up? How do you even know it’s about to level up?” he asked in shock.

Qin Huai: “……”

He sighed internally, took another bite of Sishi roll, and felt that Tan Weian truly deserved to be friends with Zang Liang. In some way, both of them had a bit of a problem in the head.

“When proficiency is full, it levels up,” Qin Huai said, opening the game panel only he could see. “My finger technique is intermediate. At 10,000 proficiency points it reaches advanced level. Now I’m only 37 points away.”

Tan Weian was stunned.

“And after it levels up… what happens?”

“Don’t know,” Qin Huai said with a smile. “But the Sishi rolls will definitely improve.”

He handed Tan Weian another roll.

“Don’t worry about the details. Try this batch—I think it’s slightly better than the last one.”

Tan Weian left in a daze, wanting badly to complain to someone, but had no one to talk to. His best complaint partner, Zang Liang, was completely immersed in hot-kitchen cooking.

So he walked over to Gu Li and said: “Qin Huai’s gone crazy.”

Gu Li didn’t even look up. “Mm.”

“Third brother, can you still eat? If you can, try mine. I think I messed up the seasoning a bit,” Gu Li said.

Tan Weian: “……”

It was over.

Even his little junior brother had gone crazy.

Burp.